


No Rest from the Wicked

by Mar_mi



Category: Naruto
Genre: F/M, Gender or Sex Swap, Loss of Control, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Sleep Deprivation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-06
Updated: 2020-05-14
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:02:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24046354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mar_mi/pseuds/Mar_mi
Summary: Living in pain is not fun, highly would not recommend.Dying was supposed to be better, until the afterlife started whispering sweet nothings of destruction and vengeance.It wasn't until I was born again did I realize I wasn't dead.It wasn't until I heard something outside of the whispers of rage and hate and saw the flash of etched metal on cloth, did I realize I was still in hell.Sleep will never be a reprieve for me. Not until death comes for me again.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 21





	1. Chapter 1

To be honest, death came as a blessing. There’s only so much a girl can take when doped up on painkillers before the world just blurs, each moment passing like a montage. Red-eyed relatives with sad smiles trying to brighten up the sterile room. Doctors in their clinical demeanor and their sad attempts at sympathy that do nothing to hide their pity and exhaustion. The constant beeping of the heart monitor as it counts the death throes of a muscle pushed past its expiration date. 

You would think sleep would be a blessing in such a scenario. It truly wasn’t. My drugged mind gave such vivid dreams that I couldn't tell the difference as the pain was ever constant even then. It drove me insane as I started to mutilate myself in my dreams. It started simple, just wishing to be free of the wires that were constantly attached to me as I yanked them out with fervor as the dream supplemented the pain (oh good, more pain). My satisfaction would only last till I awoke with them still attached, the tears streaming down my face as I gave an excuse that I just pulled something (hah) in my sleep. Then it became more...and more… but it never became real. No, I lacked even that control. Or maybe should I say I did have that control? I surprised myself that at least while awake, I could tell the difference to not attempt mutilation and wait till the next bout of sleep. You would think I would know I was dreaming at this point, you know, practice lucid dreaming or something. But in a sick way, I relished it. I could do it thinking it was real, then come awake and suffer none of the consequences (aside from my sick mind deteriorating, but hey, I was dying anyway).

No, death was a blessing. 

Well it was, until some sick fuck decided that my afterlife should be hell. Now, I’m not a saint, but I didn’t think I did anything to deserve the demon that was constantly whispering in my muddled mind. Worst part was I couldn’t even tell if I understood them or not, so out of it I was, but I understood the intent… the _emotions_ . It raged through me, rattled me when I didn’t even know if I had limbs to be shook. It spoke of unrestrained fury, ever-consuming vengeance, and I would totally ignore its stupid ass if I didn’t know it was fueled by sadness and desperation. So hey, in Rome, do what Romans do, or whatever that line is. So there we were. Such a cute pair as we wailed of the unfairness of life/death together. I was so lost in our song of silence, that I hadn’t even noticed when I started to gain other senses… touch, and sound. Actual reverberate-through-eardrums _sound_. Now, I’m no linguist but whatever muffled sound I could hear was that of another language, one that I now realize is similar to that of the demon. I strained to hear it. It was light and soft, and it captivated me. The demon’s voice got boxed to the corner of my mind as I waited for the angel (I mean, it had to be right? I was dead) to guide me to heaven. Surely I lived out my penance in hell and was now allowed into heaven. 

Time held no meaning in this place as I waited to be brought to the light (Hallelujah). The droning of rage competing with the soft utterances from … a woman? And as a complete atheist, I prayed for the lady angel to save me. Imagine my surprise when I realized my head (oh, I _do_ have limbs) was literally being squeezed and deformed, followed by the rest of my body. In hindsight, should’ve seen the birth from a mile away, but hey, I was conversing with my demon, then praying for an angel. I’d like to see you do better. Cause you know, I passed out. 

I could regale you with the inane stories of the shock of discovering vision again (of literally 5 cm from my face), of the muted words humming around me (make some sense dammit), of introduction to what it means to shit myself (god, why do I smell so bad), and how nice the vocals of my lungs are (let all hear my song of dissatisfaction). But the one thing that stayed the same… that’s right! I was still stuck with demon daddy. Normally, I would be worried about bringing some entity of rage and vengeance with me, but to be honest, angel lady sorta let me down here. 

It wasn’t until I finally paid attention to the jumbled words around me, followed by the flash of metal with an hourglass symbol etched in, that led me to a terrifying conclusion.

I never left hell.

The demon in me laughed at my quickened heart rate.

_“Gaara”_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, been reading a lot of SI-OC into main characters or new OCs, but hadn't read up on one that involved Gaara yet (if there are any, hit me up).
> 
> This idea has been floating in my mind for a couple days now, especially the fight for control that Gaara and Shukaku will face.
> 
> Oh, and there will be romance! Just don't expect any for some time... 
> 
> If anyone can help with tags or remind me of some, that would be greeaaaattttt.


	2. Chapter 2

There are not many mangas I read, and of them, not many I like. Naruto was one that fascinated me as a kid. Magical ninjas? Sign me up! Next best thing since Harry Potter. And that’s how they get you. They start with all the silly nonsense that Naruto’s adventures led to, magic ninjutsu used to entertain and ‘get stronger’, working together in sake of friendship and love, only to fucking blindside you with all the nasty shit hiding beneath the surface (which, fair, Harry Potter did have some, but not on this level).

Someone should’ve put an emphasis on the ninja part of the series beforehand. Ninja, as in assassination. Ninja, as in death. Ninja, as in political bullshit that leads to war. Add in some magic and you get. Bam! Magic demons, magic mind control, magic skills of mass destruction.

Fun to read, terrible to live.

Which leads to my current predicament. I am now a baby of undetermined age (like anyone can tell me what it is), living in the land of sand (Suna I think it’s called?), housing the one-tailed beast (I know this! Shukaku), who is now slowly driving me mad (as evidence of talking to myself). Now, I know Shukaku probably thinks I can’t understand him (which he’s right, I don’t understand jack shit about Japanese), but it doesn’t mean he isn’t trying his damnedest to make his existence known to me. We’ve started a game (haha, no, Shukaku did) of eerie similarity to peek-a-boo. Except it’s played in my mind. With his evil chakra. And me trying hard not to flinch and pretend I know about him. By the maniacal cackles in the background, I’m obviously failing it hard. 

I can’t imagine how I look from an outside perspective. A silent baby (I no longer use my vocals to express my discontent… not after knowing what kind of father Gaara has) with blacked-lined eyes, twitching every few minutes. Sometimes Shukaku takes pity on me. He likes to make me wait in anxiety for hours before hitting me up with another charge of fun happy chakra. Anyways, I can’t imagine how I look, but I do know the response this has brought to my surroundings. There used to be a crowd of women (maids? wet nurses?) attending to my every need, visits from two kids that I have to presume to be my siblings (badass Temari and creepy puppet-man Kankurou), a stoic man with hardened features (hello father, have you come to start killing me?), and the most androgenous looking male I’ve ever seen in this life and the last (Yasha-something? Yashu?). Now? One wizened woman way past her fertile age (yet somehow managed? Yay for me, I get yummy old breast milk) and my lovely uncle Yasha-something, with surprise visits from good ole Rasa. 

Now I know Shukaku is an absolute troll, because the fucker had me twitching into epilepsy every time Rasa comes for a visit. Not how I wanted to start this life. Please don’t give murder-happy father any more reason to kill me. I’m a good child, I am! With the way Rasa’s eyes become even more hooded everytime he comes to visit me, I’m sure I’ve done a great job convincing him. The one saving grace of the whole ordeal of being a baby should not be a surprise to anyone. Uncle Yasha, the saint, held me through the twitches and hums lullabies in a sad attempt at getting me to sleep more (HAH!). He was the one that started murmuring phrases and words in an attempt to teach me items around the room. He was the one to cheer me as I started learning to sit up, crawl around, and make my way through the world that was my nursery. He was there to bottle feed me when ol’ Tits McNurse disappeared one day. 

He was also the first to see when mother let herself be known.

No, no, not Shukaku you fucks, I’m not stupid. My birth mother. You know, the ultimate defense thing Gaara had going for him? Yeah, finally experienced the leftover dredges of love from mother when I almost fell off the diaper changing table when Uncle Yasha got preoccupied with something (hey, I did not want to stay on the soiled nappy anymore than I had to ok? It really stinks). The terror of falling did not last long when I found myself embraced by the warm grains of sand as it lowered me to the floor then scattered. The staring contest between me and Uncle Yasha would’ve been comedic gold if not for the fact that I was terrified. This was it. I had the unconscious ability to move sand. Which you know, yay for me, cause magic ninja skills. But also, holy fuck, Shukaku now has access to magic ninja skills. Wasn’t this all a bit too early? Like when did Gaara actually start accidentally hurting people? It looked like 5, but I mean, he did have a reputation even before the whole killing Uncle Yasha thing. 

The revelation must’ve been crack for my one-tailed friend, because the fucker won’t shut up. Maybe it’s been a while since I’ve been bombarded by his presence, since I couldn’t get a read on the emotions this time, but the surging chakra running through my head tells me it’s anything but good. I don’t know how long I sat there on the sandy ground, clutching my head, as I waited for the tide of my terror and Shukaku’s outburst to subside. Once again, I am grateful for the language barrier between the two of us because at the moment, he is absolutely reeking with agitated annoyance. I think I’ve been cursed to tears by him, as I felt water running down my face and onto the floor. How the fuck Gaara handled him with the baby brain at this age I have no idea. The fact he turned out okay in the end amazes me. I don’t even think I’ll be able to at this rate.

When I opened my eyes again, the sight before me made me want to just curl up and cry again. At the edge of the room, hands up and battered to all hell, is Uncle Yasha. Because of course. Of course something happened. Of course Shukaku used this new development and my terrified state to hurt those closest to me. I watched in my open-mouthed teary-eyed state as Uncle Yasha staggers to his feet, hands still up, like he’s the one who needs to prove he’s harmless. He slowly makes his way to me, sighs, and says something I know I’ll be saying for a very long time.

“I’m sorry.”


	3. Chapter 3

Sleep was again, ever evasive. I don’t know if my mind created the defense early on, but anytime I felt an inkling of Shukaku moving, I would startle myself awake from what little sleep I had. From the grumbling I could make out, Shukaku wasn’t too happy about it either. Bonus to this whole thing, no more hospital nightmares! Unfortunately, my mind adapted very quickly in replacing it with images of me rampaging in my little nursery to the blood spatters and cries of Uncle Yasha. And now recently, the fear of being hunted down by my father as I lay quivering under the nappy table.

I’d like to say there were little to no repercussions of what happened on ‘Mother’s Day’, but caged up as I was in my little nursery, I was not privy to whatever decisions my father had made about my little slip-up. Everytime Rasa came to visit would be a test of skill- between me and Ichibi. A jolt in the mind, a suppressed twitch to the left arm. A quick blast of Fuck You to the head, only a spasm in the wrist. I had gotten so good at it, that I would only react a fourth of the time. Even then, it would only be for my left pinky to twitch. So everytime Rasa would speak to me, I would pretend to attentively pay attention to what he said (still can’t understand, I suck at learning new languages) while suppressing any unwanted movement on my end. I think Rasa took it as a sign of improvement as he came less often. The idea solidified as I now found myself being visited by a pair of siblings whose existence I had forgotten (being a vent for a demon’s rage does that). 

Well, they were adorable, I’ll give you that. Standing before me was at least a 2 and 3 year old, staring wide-eyed as they curiously looked me over. A lady and a man standing next to Uncle Yasha were in the corner of the room, glancing over at us while talking softly to each other. Temari, with 2 pigtails instead of her signature 4 ponytails, stood confidently in front of her brother, Kankurou. Said brother was leaning into her, and what can only look like trepidation stamped over his features (looking a lot like Rasa). Well. At least one of them has the right amount of fear, but I’m sure Temari will learn in time. I have shit-all control at the moment, and I don’t know whose bright idea this whole meeting was. All I can hope to do was practice any zen techniques of calming the mind (I am one with the demon, the demon is me).

“Hello Gaara. I’m your ??? ???? Temari. And this is Kankurou, your ???? ?????”

I’m learning the language ok? But it’s hard to do so when I haven’t said a single word since coming into this world. Why haven’t I, you ask? To be honest, I really don’t know, but let’s just say Uncle Yasha has been insistent on getting me to say his name. 

I stared silently at my older siblings. They stared back. Both look increasingly uncomfortable, with Temari’s confidence wavering. Well. I guess I should try implementing part one of the “Try Not to Get Assassinated” plan; Step 1. Make friends. Step 2: Don’t kill them. It’s a work in progress.

I slowly picked up a stuffed teddy bear (his name is George), and held it up. Now, I like George. He’s soft and cute, and I’m making the ultimate sacrifice right now giving him up to them, knowing I might not get him back whole (kids are rough creatures). But I gotta show I’m capable of being selfless. Also part of the “Try Not to Get Knifed in the Back by Siblings” plan. Temari’s smile widened as she accepted the sacrifice. 

_“_ **_Hehehe. ???? not give it to her...She’ll ???? give it back. They’ll ???? take. And take. And take. ???? you are ?????. ???? me help you get it back_ ** _.”_

Well shit. I am one with the demon. I am one with the demon. I am one- ah fuck! All around me, shifty grains of sand swirled on the ground. Kankurou gives out a yelp, while Temari stays frozen, George held up in her trembling hands.

Ok. Ok. Sand is moving. Enact step 2 of the first plan, don’t kill people. I close my eyes and try to find the ever elusive chakra thing that is not Shukaku’s. I don’t even think I’m supposed to have any at this point. Like fuck Shukaku, how come he gets to and I don’t? Ok, whine later, focus now. Problem: Sand is moving outside of my control. Why: Shukaku wants our teddy bear back (the fuck is wrong with him). Solution: Get fucking George back without casualties. 

I heard shouts to the side from the adults freaking out as I opened my eyes. George is on the ground as Temari stood defensively in front of Kankurou, and Uncle Yasha standing between them and me while calling my name. The shifting sand has solidified into a tendril form and is now inching towards the teddy bear. I ignored everyone as I felt a twinge deep inside me as I focused on getting the damn bear back. I held my arm out and imagined clasping on the leg of the bear. Slowly, the sand forms a claw at the end, and then sinks into the midsection of the bear (close enough, Uncle Yasha will patch George later). I pulled my hand back and watched with surprised satisfaction as the bear was dragged across the floor back to me. I picked it up and grinned. Hell yeah! Mission success with no fucking casualties. 

“ **_Hmmm, ???? you go. Take back what is ours. OURS. Don’t ????. I’ll ???? you. Just ???? to me. No one can stop us._ **”

My smile quickly turned into a frown. Like fuck I’ll listen to demon daddy. 

“No.”

I think both Shukaku and I were both surprised by my first word. He was probably stung by the rejection, but at least the surprise on my part was because I figured my first word would come out like a croak. I haven’t used my vocal chords in weeks. 

Shukaku’s silence continued as then I felt an actual metaphorical cold shoulder from him. Hah! That’s right. Get rejected.

“Gaara. I ?????. We won’t take it from you. We’re sorry.” Yasha’s voice drew me back to the outside world as he stood crouched before me. I tried to look around him to find Temari and Kankurou. I heard the sounds of sniffles behind the lady and man that came in with my siblings. 

Ok, maybe our first play date isn’t turning out so well, but at least no one died so far. Silver linings. Wait. I can’t let this happen again. If Shukaku likes the bear so much, just destroy it. Hopefully it won’t trigger any more future episodes. I focused my gaze back down at the bear, puncture wounds littering its tummy and back. I dug my fingers into the holes, and with whatever baby grip I had, ripped it apart. Oh wow. Even baby Shinobi have crazy strength capabilities. Good to know. I looked back towards Temari and Kankurou, who were peeking from behind the two adult’s legs.

“Ok now. Pway.” I softly said (I’m still worried about croaking), as I turned my mouth into what I hoped was an inviting smile and not the grimace that I’m feeling (cause poor George. Mission status: 1 casualty). 

The sniffles turned into full out sobs. My smile dropped and I watched in silence as the two adults herded my siblings out of the room. Shit. My eyes reddened. I am not tearing up. I will not cry. It’s fine. I just have to do better next time. A sigh brought my attention back to Uncle Yasha who was still crouched before me.

“Gaara. Why did you ???? it?”

I focused back on the remains of George as I tried to find the appropriate words for the shit-sand storm that just happened. Sorry, but Shukaku is one selfish bastard who doesn’t like to share? Sorry, but I can’t control the grumpy demon you guys placed inside me with the sad excuse of a seal between it and me? Sorry, but I’m literally running on 5 hours of sleep a day (for a baby that’s some real shit), and I can barely think straight. 

“Sowwy.” Cause really, that’s all I can really say for now. 

There was a moment of silence, before I finally had the courage to look back up. Uncle Yasha smiled. I started to cry. Because shit. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a smile so sad. 

I cried myself to sleep in Uncle Yasha’s arms. I think I slept an extra few hours that day. 

Lucky me.


	4. Chapter 4

The following months blurred together. There were no more play-dates (not that I’m surprised) which left the days filled with me and Uncle Yasha playing charades and flash cards. Apparently my first few words sent him into overdrive once he knew I could talk but had a reluctance to do so. Shukaku also took part in the lessons, covering any vocabs he felt were essential to know.

“This is a man and a woman. These are their children.” Uncle Yasha held up a cartoon drawing of what I presume to be a generic family.

“ **A family of ????. Kill the strongest first. Clean up the rest.”**

“This child is the older brother of this one, while this one is the older sister,” said my uncle as he pointed out to the corresponding individual.

“ **The strong ???? the weak. Only by being stronger will you be ‘older’.** ” I held back a snort as I felt some vibes of self-confidence issues underlying Shukaku here (didn’t he have a spat with Kurama or something?)

“This would then be the daddy and mommy,” Uncle’s voice got softer here. I looked up to see his mouth displaying the ever constant smile, yet his eyes shined with unshed wetness. It then hits me that it hasn’t even been a year since my birth. Since his sister’s death. I lean over to grip his finger that was still pointed over the cartoon woman. I point it over the man, “Yas’a!”

Poor uncle, he jolted like I spat sand in his face.

“No no. I’m your uncle. You’re dad…” he trials off. Yeah buddy. I wouldn’t know how to introduce Rasa either, the cold bastard. 

“ **You’re dad is a ????. I will enjoy scraping the ???? from his ????. Drinking in his blood from his ???? corpse. And you will too. We are only ???? in their eyes. ????. Thrown away.”**

I winced. Every so often, Shukaku’s vivid words would bring up stark images and feelings to my mind. My sleep has now become an ever constant reel of death and destruction. At least I won’t lack imagination in decimating opponents in the future.

See? Shukaku-sensei is a great teacher.

I huddled into Uncle Yasha’s arms. He placed the flash cards aside, picked me up, and started humming a familiar lullaby. I sighed happily as Shukaku’s words once again became grumbles in the background. 

* * *

I awoke hours later, moonlight shining into the nursery room and over my crib. Shukaku seemed to be more restless than usual.

“ **Get up brat. I know you can hear me. Let’s go out and play.** ”

I looked sullenly at my blanket. “No go. Here and pway.”

“ **OUTSIDE.** ”

I sighed and clambered out of the crib to let myself fall, knowing I’ll get caught by sand. As I was set down, I crawled my way over to the moonlight on the floor from the window.

“No now. Wait. Olda’.” I looked up and tried to get a better view of the full moon outside. 

“ **Hmph. Good enough for now.** ”

I sat there staring at the moon, letting Shukaku’s bloodrust roil inside me. I’m thankful at least he isn’t expecting much conversation from me as I get incoherent with all the killing intent swirling around in my head. It reminded me a lot of when I was still in the womb. Shukaku’s rage and hate predominantly at the forefront. The sadness hidden underneath the whirling emotions.

By the time Shukaku calmed down, my ass was numb and the moving moon had dimmed by the morning light. I wanted to say something, but what do you say to a centuries old entity bound by the species you represent?

“Pw- play?”

“ **Shut up. We could’ve played earlier.** ”

“No. Onwi- Only you play. Here, you and I play now.”

I was left with silence. Asshole.

I looked around me to determine the damage my state of semi-coherence had left on my surroundings. A layer of sand dusted the floor around me, but no sign of damaged furniture. Great. Time to wreck shit. The rest of the early morning went into practicing the sand claw. It was hard to get the speed and strength down. I kept bashing it into items, crushing whatever I could get my claws on (heh), and just creating carnage. I now had a pile of broken toys, one shredded blanket, and a chair missing one of its legs as a result. 

I had two reasons for this. One; obviously I needed control before I get assassin’s sent after me. But also two; I needed to set a precedent that I became … unstable around this time period. No way in hell will I manage to get Shukaku’s monthly PMS under control any time soon. That shit is potent. Thus, I have to show the leftover destruction of being near me at this time. Better be labelled a potential risk than demonstrating I’m an actual risk. Not much better, I know, but baby steps.

I finished ‘training’ when my tummy started to grumble. Better not risk chakra exhaustion. I sat patiently, just waiting for the door to open with my in-dining order of mashed baby food. Wished I could tip cause Uncle Yasha should be getting paid big time. It didn’t take long before my wishes were answered and Uncle Yasha came in with a tray of breakfast. He took one look into the room, and another long look at me, before setting the tray down on the table and picking me up.

“Did you have fun?”

I looked at him, trying to determine if a yes would indicate a propensity for destruction that would get me killed, or a no, which would indicate a lack of control, that again, would get me killed.

“Yes. No.” Let’s hope that translated into a ‘maybe’ or a ‘I don’t know’.

When in doubt, be evasive. I don’t know what the fuck a maybe would mean, so let’s hope they think so too. The conversation was cut short by another grumble from my stomach. Uncle Yasha just smiled (it doesn’t reach the eyes) and plopped me onto a high chair to feed me. Overall, I think the impression of Shukaku’s and I’s first menstruation turned out pretty well.


	5. Chapter 5

Two more sleepless nights and I was just about done. I could barely keep my eyes open, but everytime my eyelids drooped, I would see flashes of Shukaku’s moonlit dreams of revenge. Honestly, I’m surprised I’m still alive. How long can a baby last without sleep? Apparently, magical ninja shit keeps me alive long enough to know 3 full days so far. 

When the last dredges of moonlight got overpowered by the third morning sun, I said ‘Fuck it. Rasa can handle it’. I then proceeded to pass out. Probably not the right decision to make when Uncle Yasha would take the brunt of the attack, but I was losing it.

I don’t know if Shukaku had his fill of bloodlust, but my dreams were non-existent. I awoke with tears pooling underneath my closed eyelids, because holy fuck I needed that undisturbed sleep. Thank you Shukaku, you arrogant hate-seething mass of shit-tanuki, for at least giving me this. Now let’s get up to see how much more I hate you.

I slowly opened my eyes. Good so far. I see the familiar ceiling of the nursery room. I rolled onto my stomach as I tried to sit up. I wasn’t too surprised that I was placed in my crib, apparently I was moved from the usual spot of the moon-viewing on the floor.

“Gaara-sama. You’re ????. Are you hungry?” I jolted as I finally took notice of the room. In the corner, seated next to the table, was Uncle Yasha. I remained silent as I took another moment to really look at the room around me. There was a larger coating of sand on the room, but there was nothing else in the room that seemed to be broken, or more broken, since the day before (‘training’ again) and Uncle had stopped trying to clean up after the second night.

Uncle Yasha waited patiently for me to answer.

“Sama?” My voice rasped. Please no Uncle Yasha...

“A ????. You are the son of the Kazekage. I need-”

“No.” Don’t do this. Don’t start drawing a line. I can’t- 

“Gaara-sama?”

“NO.” I stared at him, trying to make him understand. He can’t do this. He was my anchor. Don’t cut me off.  _ Please _ . 

Uncle’s ever present smile wavered. I put my arms up as a signal to be carried. He came over slowly and picked me up. I kept eye contact with him as I put my fist above his heart.

“Fama- Fami-... Famiri…”

“Family,” Uncle Yasha softly said. Then slowly, I watched his smile softening into a more hesitant, small thing. Yet it shone all the more bright for me. I sighed in relief. I would beam at him if I could, but I feel like my cheeks would crack from the disuse. 

“Family,” I repeated. 

Uncle Yasha sighed but his smile widened, more genuinely, “Ok Gaara. Now I ???? you’re hungry. Let’s get you ???? to eat.”

Taking better stock of my surroundings, it seemed like I slept a good 12 hours. And I felt it too. Shukaku’s subdued presence made the evening with Uncle Yasha a fun break. But all too soon, splashes of red and orange bathed the room, signifying the sun’s rest for the day. The very late dinner was a quiet affair, neither of us saying anything. Or it was.

“Gaara, you’ll be getting a ???? tomorrow. Be good to her like you are with me.”

“Her?”

“She is called Chiyo-sama. She wants to play with you.” Uncle Yasha started to clean up the dishes. I couldn’t get a read on his expression, trying to determine if the ‘play’ was a good one or not. Sage’s know, Shukaku has made his impression of what ‘play’ is very clear. 

“You play too?” Please say yes, please say it's something simple.

“No.” Crap. “But I’ll be there to watch ok?” Better I guess.

My silence made him pause. He bent at eye-level to my high chair, holding his gaze steady. “Gaara. It’s ok. They won’t ???? you.”

Not yet. But they want to know if they need to. I’m sure my past few nights have gotten their hitai-ate in a knot. I reached my hand out, watching him for any signs of flinching or avoidance. Uncle Yasha remained steady as I placed my hand on his cheek. 

“Ok.” I can do this. I’ll make it ok.

“ **Tomorrow, let’s have fun brat.** ”

Or not.

_____

With Shukaku roused from his own subdued sleep, the night was left with just the two of us chatting away.

“ **Let’s play ????. Practice so this Chi-???? can have lots of fun.** ”

“Ok.” I mean, I’m sure he’s probably gonna teach me murder techniques, but lessons are still lessons. Just gotta, you know, not kill someone. Also, this falls in line with plan ‘Make-friends-with-Murder-Happy-Demon’. I’m no Naruto, but I do eventually want to fall asleep without the constant threat of a body takeover.

“ **You have to give good hugs. Now...See that bear?”** Nooooo, not George 2.0. Why! They did nothing wrong!

“Gige no play.”

“ **Hmph. ????? ????. You had fun with the last one.”**

“No.”

**“Fine. How ‘bout that ???? rat.”** It took me a second to register him pointing out the weasel in the corner of the untouched toy pile. I was planning on giving that to Temari the next time I saw her, but I guess it’s not gonna be anytime soon. I set about my prison-break with the classic climb then tumble and hope for the best maneuver. I crawled to the rug (done having a cold numb ass).

**“Now. ???? the sand. There you go. ???? the ???? to the ???? there. Bigger.”**

I can’t tell if the verbal cues were helpful, or if Shukaku was somehow influencing me, but the pathetic claw attempts in my training had solidified and formed under Shukaku-sensei’s teachings.

“ **????. You ???? ????? can’t even do ??? ????. ???? it and do it again.”** Apparently, it wasn't a good enough standard for the Ichibi. I’m so glad I can’t understand half the things he said, if only because the intent was enough for me to know I’m being cursed at for my ineptitude.

Time passed and I was getting a little light-headed by the time I had a proper-sized claw going. 

“ **????. You ??? ?????. Again.** ”

“Tire’.”

“ **You fall asleep and I will make ???? you ???? wake again.** ” Motivational speech 101. If being a demon doesn’t stick, Shukaku should become a life coach. Would recommend.

I fight through nausea as I try to once again get the tendril of sand to solidify into a stretched arm and claw. 

“ **...Now grab the rat.** ”

I gritted my teeth, trying to get the sand to not just slam into the pile of toys. It was slow going.

“ **???? you ????. Just move it. ????** ”

Not helping you demented raccoon. 

“No help.”

“ **????. It’s an arm. Move it like your arm. Don’t ????? it.** ”

Yeah an arm full of murder sand. I don’t have murder arms just yet. I ain’t no sand behemoth.

“ **????. They should just kill you. They will kill you. You’re ????** ”

My concentration wavered as I fought through both our frustration and anger.

“ **That’s what they want. To see you ????. To see you ????. And you’ll ???? them right.”**

“Shut.”

“ **You think you can shut me up? Shut me out? I will never leave you as long as you live. I will ???? you till the day you die.** ”

“I- ,” seething, I watched as the coiled claw shot out, smashing into the pile of toys. A puff of dislodged sand and toys flung into the air.

“-KNOW.” Black spots clouded my eyes as I watched the claw pull out, its talons tightly clenched. It came in front me, and then slowly disintegrated into useless grains on the ground. In front of me was the damned weasel with its fake fur matted with sand. 

“Yay.” Yes, it sounded as deadpanned as you can expect. Makes sense though as I once again fell into a faint while Shukaku’s laughter resounded in my skull.

Shittiest. Sensei. Ever.


End file.
